Eyes
by At Some Actor's West Side Loft
Summary: They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. What do Harry Potter and Hermione Granger see in each other's? Reviews are like Luna Lovegood-Interesting and lovable.
1. Halloween

_Halloween, eight years after Voldemort's death_

_1:00 P.M._

"Ron! Are you quite sure your parents can't watch the children?" Hermione called to her husband.

"Yeah, and Mum would hex the hell outta me if I ask again." Ron replied gloomily. "She and Dad really DO want to go on this vacation, Hermione, and they're quite serious about starting it now. You know how Mum is when she controls the planning on something. Everything's set down to the second. There's no way around it."

She groaned. They'd been planning on going apple picking with Harry and Ginny as a late fall couples' date, followed by dinner In their respective domestic lives, both Harry and Hermione had succeeded in engaging their spouses in some Muggle activities-so long as they retained a hint of magic about them. On this particular day, for instance, they'd be apparating to an orchard that employed Weather Charms to ensure that crops had optimal growing conditions year round. However, it looked like they'd have to bring the toddlers along for the adventure. Hermione quickly rang up Harry's home phone.

"Hel-James Sirius, don't hog all the tasty Bertie Bott beans, share them with Albus, please!-Hello?"

She laughed softly at the mischief that always swirled around the Potter home. "Hi, Harry," she smiled. "Sorry to be a bother, but would you mind if Ron and I brought Hugo and Rose along for the apple picking? It's been an absolute nightmare finding anyone to babysit, you know how big Halloween is for witches and wizards. And Molly and Arthur are going out of town…"

"Sure, don't worry about it," he answered. "I think James and Albus would like the company-and so would I, to be honest. They do get so excited for today. It can be a bit overwhelming at times." He held the phone up to his two sons. "Hey, what d'you two say to seeing Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron, Hugo, and Rose a bit sooner than we planned?"

"YEAH!" They cheered. Harry put the phone back up to his mouth.

"Well, there's your answer," he grinned.

Laughing, she replied, "Thanks. Be over in a few."

By 1:20, three Weasleys and a Granger were placing a pinch of Floo Powder into their fireplace.

"Hermione, I'm sure we could use Side-Along Apparition with the children by now. Look who they've got for a mother, they're brilliant, they could handle it," Ron wheedled.

"No, Ronald." she replied sternly. "I do _not _want them getting splinched on Halloween, or ever, thank you very much." Her eyes twinkled a bit. "But I appreciate the compliment." She kissed his cheek.

He sighed, but sided with his wife. Some battles just weren't that important.

They exited the Potters' extra large fireplace. It could comfortably fit at least four people. Each family had specially designed one so their friends could come over and not worry about the kids getting out at the wrong grate. Harry and Hermione had never entirely forgotten his first ever go with Floo Powder, when he'd gotten himself lost down Knockturn Alley.

"Happy Halloween!" James and Albus chorused, sprinting towards the family friends.

"Hey! How much candy are you two gonna get tonight, huh?" Ron asked, grinning.

"Sooo much," James answered, his eyes growing wide in anticipation of his massive haul.

"I'm gonna get more!" Albus exclaimed.

"Not on my watch, you're not," Ginny chimed in. "Both of you already eat more than enough sweets as it is."

"Aww, mom!"

"Is dad going to work today?" James asked.

Ginny's face suddenly blanched for a second. "Err…yes, he is," she muttered. "I forgot about that. He's probably going quite soon, actually."

"Why does he always go today?" Albus frowned.

"He just has to," his mother replied vaguely.

Ron diffused the odd situation with humor, one of the better talents he'd developed in parenthood. "Say, boys, d'you want to show Hugo and Rose your costumes? And I can tell you about the time-" He stretched his hands out wide- "Harry got ALL the sweets on the Hogwarts Express! The whole trolley!"

"The WHOLE trolley?" they asked in awe.

"Yeah, the WHOLE thing," he repeated, grinning.

"Okay!" they agreed and ran upstairs, Ron in tow.

Hermione snorted. "Sometimes I think I'm married to a child. He's great with the kids, though, I'll give him that."

"Yeah," Ginny answered. She fussed with the candy apples in the fridge.

"By the way, if Harry's got to go down to the office, you didn't have to invite us over. I'm sure we could've found someone to watch the kids." Hermione found Ginny's sudden distance a bit odd.

"No, no. It's…well, he's going to Godric's Hollow," she answered quietly. "Always does on Halloween, since…" The silence was a perfect explanation.

"Oh. Right. Sorry." She hesitated, then asked, "D'you think he'd mind if I went up and talked to him? You know where he is?"

"He should be…"

"Oi, what's this, my wife and my best friend gossiping about me?" he feigned indignation from the staircase. He joked, "Lucky my ears aren't on fire."

"Do all your jokes have to be so terribly dull, love?" Ginny called, but her voice held no hostility.

"You're the Weasley, you've got more than enough humor for the both of us." He smiled, walked through to the kitchen, and kissed her, then hugged Hermione. "'Lo. Say, where's the rest of ya?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ron's upstairs, regaling the children with tales of how you bought the whole sweets trolley out your first time on the train."

Ginny gave him a slap on the arm. "Right beast you were, Harry Potter. Never thought some other children might want something, huh?"

He laughed and playfully shoved the redhead away. "Hey, it was the first time I was allowed to buy anything and had more than a couple quid on me. I couldn't resist."

Ginny's laugh drops to the floor, curls up, and dies when she sees he's got a scarf on. "So you're going now, then?"

"Yep."

"Know when you'll be back?"

"Not too sure."

"Right, then. I'll see you later. Please don't be too long, the boys will miss you. And I'm sure Hugo and Rose will want to see you at some point, too." She swoops over and gives him a peck.

"Sure thing."

Hermione very nearly clutches his arm after Ginny lets go, but figures it's better not to look like she cares too much. Instead, her brown eyes meet his green ones. She cocks an eyebrow.

"_She doesn't go with you?"_

The bright green color fades slightly, like a shirt that's been through the washer a few too many times.

"_Nope. Long story."_

He can see her brain whirring, trying to create a scenario, an explanation, that makes Ginny's absence acceptable to her. But there isn't one. She turns to the irrational, figuring that will shed some light on the situation. A guessing glance, with a generous amount of worry heaped on at the end.

"_It's cause you want to be alone, right?"_

He wishes this girl didn't know him quite so well. It would make lying a lot easier.

"_No."_

She barely even registers that he looked away before she says, "I'll go with you."

"Oh, you don't have to, Hermione…" Ginny protests.

"No, it's fine." There's false cheer in her voice. It's lifeless, like Christmas decorations that are still up in the middle of January. "Godric's Hollow was absolutely beautiful the last time I saw it, and I figure I can take some time to appreciate it more now, since I won't be worrying about Voldemort popping up any second." She fakes a laugh, then asks Harry, "Is that alright with you?"

"Yeah, it's fine, thanks." He, too, keeps his voice light, as Ginny's still in the room, and he doesn't want her to hear just how much it means to him.

Another kiss and hug from him and a wave from Hermione precede the "_pop." _


	2. Godric's Hollow

They're back to where they were on Christmas Eve. The afternoon air is cool, crisp. Fall is valiantly trying to stave off winter's attacks, but the wind is ripping leaves off tree limbs.

"You were right, it's nice to come back here without Voldemort or Death Eaters breathing down our necks." Harry grinned at Hermione, half heartedly hoping he could put her at ease, even thought it most likely won't work.

"Why doesn't she come with you?" Her voice was flat.

"Ginny, you mean? Why doesn't she come here?" He stalled.

"You know exactly what I mean," she snapped.

He sighed. "I don't want to talk about it…"

Her tone softened. "You need to, though. You think I still can't read you like a book?"

He smiled at that and slipped an arm around her as they walked towards his parents' headstones. "It's just…" She looked up, eyes burning like coals, daring him to make an excuse for his wife's behavior. And he does try. "She's had enough death. Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Mad Eye…whoever else is gone now," he answered bitterly. "Can't say I blame her."

Hermione bit her tongue to keep from saying something less than charitable about Ginny, and instead looked up again at Harry, doubt front and center in her gaze.

"_We've all had our losses. What else is it?"_

He turned his head away. "Nothing," he growled. They're at his parents' grave, and he wishes she'd just shut the hell up and let him lapse into bitter silence, but he knows her better than that.

"Don't go all 'woe is me, no one understands how I feel' on me, Harry." She gripped his arm tighter.

"You don't," he couldn't help but protest.

She gritted her teeth. "Try me."

"Okay. You want to know why Ginny won't come with me?" He nearly spat. "It's because she can't handle me when I'm like this. I'm a fucking mess whenever I have to come here, and she doesn't like it. I don't know why, it's not like I can forget they're dead, but every Halloween, I get this little reminder of it, and…" He ran a shaky hand through his hair before dropping to his knees in front of the twin graves.

Hermione can't speak. The uncharitable thoughts have transformed into curses, and she can't stem their flow.

"_He needs her, and she has the nerve to let him suffer alone."_

And Hermione did the only sensible thing. She plopped herself down next to Harry, conjured a wreath for his parents' graves, and inched back. Because all he needed was someone _there_for him. She can't do anything else.

After about fifteen minutes, Harry clambered to his feet. Eyes wet, nose running.

"_I'm pathetic,"_he thought automatically. This routine happened every time he came out here. The self loathing and sadness will stick around for a couple more hours, and then everything will go back to normal.

He hugged Hermione tight. "Thank you."

"Course," she whispered. She went to kiss him on the cheek, but somehow missed and hit his lips instead. They nervously laughed around the accidental brush and began kissing in a way that was rather unbecoming for two people who supposedly loved each other like siblings. Harry pulled back, aching. "S-sorry. Got carried away," he muttered. Another nervous, unnatural laugh. "Used to Ginny's kisses, I s'pose."

Hermione's chuckle was also strained. "Sure…don't worry about it. No…no big deal. Accidents happen."

As they apparated back to Harry's house, they jointly decided to blame their furious blushing on the cold, biting wind from Godric's Hollow, rather than an incident that they'd never mention again.


	3. Later On

The minute they recovered from apparating back into the Potter home, Harry and Hermione rushed off to find their respective spouses. "Are you okay?" Ginny asked.

He kissed her fiercely. "I love you." That answer didn't make too much sense, so it was in perfect harmony with his thoughts. "I love you, Ginny," he repeated, making absolutely sure that there was no chance his head could misinterpret his message.

"_You're fine," _he told himself sternly. _"It was just an accident. Could've happened to anyone."_

Ginny's face was about the same shade of red as her hair. "I love you, too, Harry. But where'd all this affection suddenly come from?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "Just…glad to see you, I s'pose."

"Well, thank you," she smiled.

Hermione, meanwhile, held Ron's hand for nearly all the rest of the day. And if she and Harry didn't hug and exchange the usual peck on the cheek at the end of the night, well, it was only because he was too busy making sure the boys didn't eat too much candy at once.

There wasn't anything else there. There couldn't be.

_Late August, following year._

Hermione sighed. August 18th, her personal gate to hell, was once again here. It was the day she'd had to Obliviate her parents before she'd gone off with Harry on the trio's quest to find and destroy the Horcruxes. Not only had they forgotten they had a daughter, they also decided it was their life's ambition to move to Australia. Though this move had kept them very safe, tracking them down proved to be quite the challenge. As a result, Hermione had been unable to find them until almost a full year after the war had ended.

Though the reverse to the charm worked perfectly, there was a fissure between Hermione and her parents after that. They no longer took such pride in her being a witch. They began to view magic with an almost undetectable air of suspicion and fear. She swallowed the words about her magical life bitterly, like they were Polyjuice Potion.

And none of the others had noticed a thing. Except Harry, who always sent her a note on August 18th that read: _"I love you. I'm sorry."_

Hermione knew she could never get him to stop. The gesture still meant something, even if it was a tiny something. She knew this year would be no different.

Well, actually, that was a bit of a lie, it was different. Ron had unfortunately inherited his father's proclivity to hoard useless junk, so on this particular August 18th, he and Hermione were doing some serious house cleaning.

"Least it isn't Grimmauld Place we're having to clean out," he called in a light voice, trying to make up for the fact that most of the stuff they were sorting through was his.

"True," she smiled. "Think we could enlist some more help, though?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure everyone's just waiting for an invitation to come clean this place up," he answered.

She laughed, then continued sorting through a box. After rummaging through its contents, she put it in their "THROW OUT" pile.

Ron looked down at it, then snatched a book off the top layer of odds and ends. "Hermione, you can't throw this out!" he cried indignantly.

She rolled her eyes. "Ronald, not throwing things out is what's gotten us here in the first place."

"No, I mean…you can junk the box, but I'd like to keep this book." He shot her a sly grin.

"A book you actually read? Yes, we should save that, it'll be a collector's item in the future," she teased.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny," he snorted. "No, it's just…this book sorta got us started." He wrapped his arms around her.

"What d'you mean?" she asked. Got them _started? _What was he saying? She'd only started noticing Ron in a mostly positive light the summer of what would have been their 7th year.

"Well, the twins gave me this for my 17th birthday, right, and it was right after I'd chucked Lavender. And I'd…I'd realized how much I liked you," he blushed. "And you know I was never that amazing at talking to girls…"

She smirked. "Really? You?"

"I know, I know, it's incredibly difficult to believe…" he played off her sarcasm and dodged a slap. "But, uh…yeah. Got some tips from here and started talking to you more…well, more like a bloke would talk to a girl he fancies."

She kissed him. "Aww. Look at that. You grew out of having the emotional range of a teaspoon." She laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Granger." He smiled, flipped the book into the "KEEP" pile, and continued excavating the downstairs closet.

"_It's cute…in a dorky sort of way," _she thought, going upstairs to begin rooting through the mess in their spare room. _"Couldn't properly talk to me without a book."_

SMACK!

An overly enthusiastic delivery owl smashed into the side window.

"Oh, poor thing!" she gasped, yanking the window open. It flew into her hand, dropped a note off, and left; It was more resilient than it looked.

"_I love you. I'm sorry." _

And with that note came a realization, one that had the agonizing power of an Auror's Stunning Spell.

"_Ron doesn't remember that."_

And another.

"_He only started talking to me that way cause he fancied me, cause he wanted something in return. He didn't…"_

Breathing was suddenly a near impossible task. _"Why can't I be thick for once?"_ Because her heart would give out if her brain connected the dots. Hermione was wrong. She survived even after whispering to herself, "_He didn't love me like Harry does." _


	4. A Fireside Chat

Hermione decided to give Ron a chance. She couldn't completely fault him for not remembering the exact day she'd Obliviated her parents. After all, it wasn't as though they were _actually _dead. _"Still…Harry picked up on it," _she reflected, refusing to think about him past that. She went back downstairs.

"Say, Ron, what day is it?"

"Err…the 18th, I think. Why?" His brows creased together in confusion.

"Just wondering." She turned away from him abruptly. "Cause I think…yeah, I might have to go into work today, there's a draft of a paper I should review." She went back upstairs, found Atticus, their owl, hanging from a perch on the ceiling, and sent a note for Harry.

"_Thanks. Can we meet up some time today and talk? I've got a lot on my mind…" _She deliberated, not wanting to sound overly needy, but in the end, left it at that.

"Now, go straight to Harry's," she instructed the owl. "If he isn't there, go to the Ministry of Magic. No side trips to hunt mice. Got it?"

Atticus gave an assenting hoot.

"Good. Thank you." She cracked the window and let him loose.

Harry's reply came within the hour.

"_Feel free to come over. Ginny took the boys to a Quidditch match, and I could use a break from working."_

"_Be right over," _she scribbled back.

"Ron?" She called down to him.

His head popped up at the landing. "Yeah?"

"I do have to go, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

"No problem," he answered. "Good luck with whatever you're working on."

"Thank you. Erm…" She consulted her watch as she walked down the stairs. They'd been tidying the house up all day. It was nearly 5:00. "I might be a while, so feel free to get dinner on your own. And I'll help with the rest of the cleaning when I get back," she promised.

"Don't worry about it, Mione. See you later." He kissed her, then gently moved her aside as he opened the basement door.

"Yep." And with a tiny "_pop," _she was gone.

Harry, anticipating his friend's arrival, had unlocked the front door. She stepped in and was pleased to see he was pouring two mugs of coffee.

"Hi," she smiled.

He replied, "Hello to you too. So…what's up?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. It's kind of a long story."

"Well, we've got some time," he answered quietly. They grabbed the mugs and a pair of coasters before curling up on a couch in the living room. Hermione sipped her drink, then nearly spat it out when an intense, biting warmth trickled down her throat.

"Harry Potter, did you put Bailey's liquor in this?" she cried.

He grinned guiltily. "Yeah…I figured you could use something to take the edge off."

"You know me too well."

"_Funny, that's the whole reason you're here, isn't it?"_ some part of her subconscious noted.

"So…" Harry leaned back, eyes curious and a touch worried, studying Hermione.

"It's…it's Ron. He hardly ever remembers that today's…you know…" He nodded.

"And I'm not trying to blame him, Lord knows the shop keeps him busy," she amended hastily. "It's just…well, I'm there for him and the family when they're feeling down about Fred. And I don't want to sound like I'm better than them, it's just…some sympathy would be nice," she finished. Harry gave her hand a familiar, comforting squeeze.

She continued, "And I know it's not their fault they can't see how my parents have changed, since they're used to Muggles being…"

"A bit wary of magic?" He suggested.

"Yes," she nodded. "But Mum and Dad…" her voice cracked, and she buried her head in Harry's shoulder.

"I know," he murmured.

Despite everything, she managed a smile. That was why she'd come, wasn't it? Because Harry understood. And that was precisely why he'd put his work on hold for Hermione. Sometimes you needed a friend who just_ got _you, who didn't demand explanations, or tried to tell you how to fix things. You desired only comfort.

"Thanks." She sat up again.

"Course, no problem." He drank a bit more of the coffee.

"Well…erm, I should probably get going. Ron and I are doing some spring cleaning, we've got _so _much stuff to throw out…" The explanation didn't get her off the couch, though.

A small smirk played on Harry's lips. "I wonder where the packrat trait could've come from…"

She laughed. "Yeah. Ron, thank God, isn't as bad as Arthur was, but he's close."

"I think it's a Weasley gene," he commented. "Ginny can be a bit of a mess herself."

"We should have a cleaning party sometime," she joked. "It'll be Grimmauld Place all over again." She finally stood up.

"Thank you, Harry. Really." Just like old times, she nearly knocked him flat with a hug.

"Anytime," he answered. He was holding on to Hermione, not Ginny or his broom, so why were his fingers gripping her so tightly?

"I…" Her voice died in her throat. She shook her head. _"He knows I love him. No need to say it." _

He cocked his head to the side. "Hmm?"

"Nothing." They were still clinging to each other, too close for comfort.

"_Too close __**to**__ comfort," _they locked eyes and realized.


	5. Somewhere Only We Know

Their eyes ultimately subjected their normal lives to the Cruciatus Curse.

As Harry looked at Hermione, a destructive thought crossed his mind: "_I could have conversations with her even if we never spoke."_

And he and Ginny hadn't developed that ability. He could easily recognize her hard, blazing look of excitement, of course. But there were still times when he couldn't get a read on her and had to ask for clarification.

It was more than understanding, though. It was how differently the two women perceived him.

Ginny still saw him as the Boy Who Lived, the one who vanquished the Dark Lord. He remembered something she'd said a very long time ago:

"_You won't be happy unless you're fighting Voldemort."_

And, had he been anywhere but Dumbledore's funeral, Harry would have corrected her on the spot. He'd fought Voldemort because he had no fucking choice in the matter. The deaths, the torture, the pain? All _that _was supposed to make him happy? No. The war was a terrible necessity, and nothing more.

On the other hand, there was Hermione, the one who had seen him as a first year, drifting into the unreal world he saw in the Mirror of Erised. The one who had stayed up til 2 in the morning with him the night before the First Task until he could perform a decent Summoning Charm. The one who hadn't abandoned him during their search for the Horcruxes.

Hermione saw all that in his green eyes. The appreciation, the love for her, and her alone, pouring out.

Out of nowhere, she remembered why she'd glanced Harry's way at Bill and Fleur's wedding. She'd always told herself it was because, in a way, they had been bonded for life: Nearly always together as best friends. But now, another reason surfaced.

The couple had taken a quote from the Bible, of all places, and had it read aloud just before they completed their vows. It was one Hermione heard a few times as a young girl. "_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud…It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."_

And as much as she'd meant to look at Ron, those words, those qualities…they applied to how she saw Harry.

She leaned in towards him. This wasn't a want, it was a need.

"_If he backs off, that's fine," _Hermione told herself. _"I'll pretend this never happened and blame it on the liquor. But he deserves a chance…"_

Harry desperately tried to stop himself from leaning in towards his best friend. _"You're in love with GINNY!" _he yelled. "_You're meant for each other."_

Another part of him, a rather large part, doubted it. "_What do you really know about her?"_

"_She…she loves Quidditch,"_ he thought wildly. _"And…erm…her hair smells like lilacs, and she can cast a great Bat Bogie hex…"_

Resistance was pointless. He caved and kissed his soulmate.

They reveled in the sensation of each other's lips. The pretense that this was an accident got locked in the Vanishing Cabinet from their sixth year. And yet…

Tears rolled down Hermione's face. Her eyes, guilty, met Harry's. "We shouldn't…" she sighed as his lips met the nape of her neck.

"Best if we stopped," he agreed as she followed his lead. Salty tracks ran down his cheeks, too. They stopped kissing long enough for Hermione to whisper, "Let's go…"

"To the Forest of Dean," he finished the thought, and they vanished from the living room.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," he observed quietly, making an indirect compliment for Hermione.

She pulled him close. "Yes…" Another kiss.

"We can't do this," Harry whispered. Despite his words, he couldn't keep his hands off Hermione, couldn't keep himself from loving her so intensely.

"What can we do, then?" she demanded, tears running down her face. "Pr…Pretend everything's all right, that this never happened, that we don't want this?" They kissed harder, recognizing that this was their only chance.

"Yes," he nodded before hanging his head.

Hermione turned cold. "Why?"

He frowned. "Why what?"

"Why didn't you TELL me?!" she screeched shrilly. "That…I don't know, that we had a chance, that you fancied me?" She kicked a leaf in frustration.

"You were all over Ron-"

"Yeah, well, look what's happened, again."

"_Again?" _Images ran through his head. Third year, Ron pretending Hermione didn't exist because Crookshanks was chasing Scabbers. Fourth year, Ron ruining the Yule Ball for Hermione because she'd gone with Krum. Sixth year, Ron dating Lavender only to get a rise out of his friend. And where had he, Harry, been during all of those fights? Whose side had he chosen?

They locked eyes.

Their lips met, and they glowed. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too, Harry." she whispered. The kisses, the touches, grew less gentle. He craved her touch, he had to have her, had to somehow make up for the decade of decadence they could've had together.

She wasn't surprised that their bodies were perfectly in sync even though they'd shared all of one kiss before that day. Wasn't shocked that they felt like complete shit after it was over. Wished she could stop whispering "I love you" to a man she couldn't have after they left this place.

They clung to each other, skin and bones seared together in a wonderful, traumatizing ache.

"We have to go," she whispered. He cuddled closer to her.

"I can't. I can't go back," he growled. "It's…it'll be impossible." Hell, he'd probably have to cast a Silencing Charm on himself the next time he slept with Ginny to make sure he couldn't scream someone else's name.

Bitter tears cut through her fading makeup. "I know." She gripped his hand and traced the remnant of Umbridge's detentions over and over. "_I must not tell lies_." Funny, in a "that's not actually funny, it makes me want to hurl myself under the Hogwarts Express" way. She'd be telling lies every day now…to herself, saying she and Harry couldn't really work, that it was a burst of passion that led them together. To Ron, if he ever asked if he was her true love.

They got up gingerly. The war had gifted them less pain that this departure would. "Wait," she commanded.

"I just…" She had to have some sign of this. So she could have something to destroy later. Or have something to haunt her, remind her that it could never happen outside of here. She shakily began tracing a heart on a rock. Harry joined in, completing the right side of it. They wrote their initials on the inside. Hermione frowned and rearranged the letters.

"What are y-" Harry started.

She aimed a broken smile at him. "You'll see."

The six letters faded to three. HJP.

He smiled, since swearing and smashing up the Forest of Dean at his idiocy-HOW could he have missed that they were so perfect together, so right, that they'd even share the same married name?-would have taken energy he no longer possessed. "I wouldn't make you take my last name," he murmured. They clasped hands for a second, then pulled apart, preparing to apparate back to their own homes.

"I would have wanted to."

With that, they left their sanctuary.


End file.
